Black Beast (17 page)

She smiled sweetly. “Just wanted to make sure I said thank you, sir. Thank you, sir.”

More laughter. Mr. Hauberk shot her a defeated look and continued to read from the sheet.

Once more, the balance of power had been restored. With Mr. Hauberk, anyway. David, she wasn't so sure about.

Catherine glanced over at him. His face betrayed nothing. If he was displeased with this arrangement, she was left none the wiser. Others certainly were. Disgruntled murmurs tore through the room like wildfire.

“Poor David. Can you imagine having
her
as a partner?”

David was staring down at his notes, oblivious. Or so it seemed. His hearing was as good as hers. Catherine knew he could hear the whispers. But did he believe the rumors?

Don't be stupid. Think he'll come running back like some knight in shining armor to sweep you off your feet? You know exactly where he stands. He made that all quite clear three years ago.

It was an ugly, sneering voice, rather like the ones that were gossiping about her at that very moment.

Unfortunately, it was her own.

“Singh and Perez.”

The malcontent's bitter diatribe was still in full swing. “…always late to class … has this wild look in her eyes…swear I've seen them change color…just look at her staring at David…”

Catherine realized she was, in fact, staring at him, and quickly looked away from David, who, prompted by the rumors, was starting to look up—and found herself locking eyes with Karen.

Like David, and Catherine herself, Karen wasn't human. That was the end of their similarities. Karen Shields was a full-blooded witch, practically royalty, and she was looking at Catherine the way one would look at some gooey glop stuck to the bottom of their shoe.

Predator did not like witches. Neither did Prey.

Again, when the two of them agreed on something, it usually boded trouble.

Was Karen trouble? Catherine had never had any contact with her before. What? She mouthed.

Karen stared at her a moment longer and then slowly lowered her eyes. Somehow the way she did it didn't convey submission so much as extreme distaste. It was a pretty trick. Catherine was annoyed with the witch for knowing how to play shifter games. Because Karen was a witch, and witches had no business dabbling in such matters.

She is a witch
, Catherine reminded herself.
A witch with connections.

Was it possible that Karen was linked to the male witch who had attacked her in the gully?

Catherine tried to think of what she could have done to merit her hatred. She may have “accidentally” jostled Karen in the ribs a couple of times as they were coming into class, but surely Karen wouldn't have her killed over that. Any shifter would have done the same.

“…
giving Karen the evil eye now. Be careful. She might launch another attack of bodily fluids.”

Bonnie “Pisser” Sung was the disgruntled gossiper. Why did that not surprise her?

Catherine channeled the predatory stare of a leopard and waited, leaning her elbow against the lab table and propping up her chin with the back of her hand. Leaning forward the way she was, taking up as much space as possible, she looked far larger than she actually was. Much more intimidating. It was a trick most animals knew, whether predator or prey.

Bonnie's seatmate noticed first, elbowed Bonnie, and pointed. The two of them stared at Catherine. She stared back, nonplussed, confidant that she was the dominant in this interaction. She was much better at staring than they were. It did not take long for them to look away.

“…
and Sung and Buchanan,” Mr. Hauberk finished, setting down the sheet of paper. He looked quite pleased with himself. Catherine wanted to stuff the paper down his throat and gag him with it. “I'll give you all the rest of class to meet up with your partners and exchange contact information.”

Gods damn it.

Technically, this entire meeting was superfluous. She still had his number down by rote. Not that she ever would have admitted this in a million years. Besides, his parents had probably had their numbers changed by now. She wouldn't be surprised if they'd contemplated a restraining order.

When it became clear that she had no intention of approaching him, David got up and walked over to her desk. He had brought his notebook with him, but far from making him look dorky, the way Chase or a similar boy would have looked in his position, it made him look artistic. Scholarly.

Not fair
, Catherine thought. And it wasn't. But life rarely was.

“Well.” His face looked more serious than usual. He spoke before she could get a word in, all in a rush. “I suppose we should exchange numbers. Although if you prefer e-mail…”

“Aren't you afraid of me?”

David frowned. “Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

“Because I'm bad news,” she said. “Walking trouble. Cursed. Jinxed. A
freak
. I might steal your first born, give you bad juju, suck you dry. Take your pick.”

A deep blush rose in his olive cheeks.

It took her a moment to realize how what she'd said could be misconstrued.

“That's not what I meant,” she growled, suddenly flustered and angry because of it. “You—”

“I know what you meant.” His voice was quiet, perfectly composed, but the pink hadn't left his face. What Catherine had initially taken for embarrassment was beginning to look more like anger.

She opened her mouth, but David was faster.

“I was hoping you wouldn't bring it up, though. I should have known that you were petty enough—and spiteful enough—to do so.”

The flames of annoyance became a full-blown holocaust. “How dare you. You have no right!”

“I'm not my parents' mouthpiece. I'm sorry about what they did, but if this is how you're going to act then maybe—”

“Maybe what?”

David faltered, then said, “Then maybe they did the right thing, you know?”

In that split second, Catherine had never hated anyone as much as she hated David. The feeling coursed through her body, seeping into her senses one by one, and where it touched, nerves whited out. All she could see was a fiery red color that eclipsed everything else, that may have been her own blood boiling before her eyes.

And then, when it felt like her fist was going to fly out, and connect with his face, Catherine stopped, and took a mental step back. Her thoughts were fuzzy, but cogent. It never occurred to her that David didn't feel the same way as his parents about her being cut out of his life.

She had just been so hurt, so utterly humiliated, when her best friend of ten years no longer had anything to say to her. Of course she had assumed that the silence had been voluntary, the decision mutual. Was David trying to tell her now that he had been coerced.

Her eyes were sharp when she looked at him. “I was fifteen. No fifteen-year-old deserves that.”

“No.” David studied the table. “They don't. I'm sorry.”

She breathed out slowly, and some of the anger left along with the carbon dioxide. “Yeah, well, I'm sorry, too.” The words rolled out of her mouth like heavy rocks. They made her mouth hurt. They made her head hurt. “Here's my cell.”

She rattled off the numbers quickly, without checking to see if he'd gotten them.

All she wanted to do was escape this laboratory, which had suddenly become too small.

But she couldn't resist adding, superciliously, “I don't think you want my house number.”

His complexion went ashen at the prospect. “No, probably not.”

Catherine slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. “I have to get home. Are we done here?”

David looked down at his phone. Back at her. “Don't you want mine?”

“No.”

He didn't flinch like she'd wanted him to. His eyes seemed to be trying to nudge their way into her soul. “
Did
you ever…you know?”

Catherine's eyes flicked to Chase and Karen. Neither of them were paying any attention but that could change if David didn't keep his mouth shut. She shot the aforementioned a poisonous look that conveyed how much she resented enduring the misery inflicted upon her by his family for the last three years and said, “No. I haven't.”

“Oh,” said David.

She searched the room for something to glare at and received a look as searing as a gas flame.

“Karen is looking at you,” said Mr. Obvious.

Catherine tore her eyes away from the witch. “I don't think she likes me very much.”

“I don't think she likes anyone very much.”

“Yeah, well. She's a bitch,” Catherine said. Conveniently overlooking the fact that there were many who would say the same thing about her.

“I don't know why she chose to go to Barton Academy when she could have gone to one of those special schools.” He encapsulated his words in quotes with his fingers, just in case she didn't get it, and she had to make an actual effort not to roll her eyes.